


Cover Me

by DennisCrumb



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: F/M, Growing Up Together, Origin Story, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-06-27 02:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15675786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DennisCrumb/pseuds/DennisCrumb
Summary: Casey's uncle John wanting to date Kevin's mom feels like a big lie churning in her stomach. It doesn't add up. She ignores all of that for the flicker of hope pumping her heart with excitement she doesn't trust with letting him see.When six year old Casey goes to the shooting range she meets Kevin, so does two of the most horrible people she will ever know.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one. Year one.**

Casey loves Saturdays because those were firing range days, and that means her uncle left her alone for a few hours.

They pull up at the curb to Jean's Outdoor Range, a place that has been in her life since she can remember. She'd spend hours here with her dad on the weekend, listening to him talk and tell stories of his own visits to the range when he was her age. It's where she'd fired a gun for the first time at the age of four, her daddy right beside her. She'd felt so invincible that day.

The range hasn't been the same since he's died, but it still feels more like a home than her uncle's place.

She wastes no time unbuckling her seatbelt. It swishes loudly as it slides over her pink and green camoflauge jacket. John blinks away the trance-like state he’s been in since this morning. He reaches out, gripping her forearm so tightly she visibly winces, a whimper building behind her pink, pinched lips.

Keeping her body turned towards the door, she glances over her shoulder at him when he jerks her arm for attention.

“I’m going to be late,” she hears herself say, heart pounding in her ears as her wide, brown eyes stare unblinkingly at him.

John’s bushy brows drop down over his gaze, mouth pursing in a disapproving frown. John always expects certain things from her that she will never give if she can avoid it, such as goodbye hugs and declarations of 'I love you's.' He takes up so much space in his pick-up truck that he practically looms over her. But she doesn't back down, silently holding her ground even as it cracks and crumbles beneath her small feet.

John's sigh gets lost in the truck’s idling engine, the only sign of it in his bushy beard which bristles like the wind does the trees behind him. He waits and waits, their silent staredown thickening the musty air of fast food and sweaty clothes from his last hunting trip.

“I shouldn’t even let you go after the stunt you’ve pulled,” he tells her in a stern, hushed tone.

Casey smooths her face into one of ignorance; she’s really good at hiding. It’s why they’re having this conversation now.

“You almost got us into trouble, Casey-Bear,” he continues in a low growl. “Did you know that they could have taken you away from me? That’s what child services does. You don’t want that, _do you_?”

Casey shakes her head minutely, not trusting herself to speak. Any place would be better than her uncle's, no matter what he tells her.

“When you miss the bus taking you home, and you hide for hours in a teacher’s cabinet drawer: _that_ gives the impression that you don’t wanna come home.”

He drags her closer. Breath hitching, Casey brings her leg up, digging her knee into the console that separates them, giving her the tiniest leverage to remain safe. Away.

“And it won’t happen again, right?” John suggests, tilting his head questioningly.

"Right," she exhales on shaky breath. Staring at him unblinkingly - hyper-focused - she nervously awaits his judgement.

Nodding, John lands a kiss on her forehead before releasing his hold. Casey reflexively jerks back, thumping against the passenger door. Keeping her gaze steadily locked onto him, she pulls at the handle and hears the blessed click and cool whoosh of air. Swivelling around, she climbs out before he can even think to request walking her in the building.

“I’ll pick you up in a few hours,” he shouts.

As his truck pulls out and the engine fades away Casey’s shoulders slump in relief, the ever-present heavy ache in her chest and niggling in her spine ebbing into dull, vague sensations. Wiping away the slightly damp spot where his lips met her skin, Casey slowly makes her way inside. Maybe time will slow down if she's slower. There’s no danger where she's going; not of the proportions that’s terribly equal to her uncle.

 

* * *

 

Casey has been waiting for this day ever since her daddy told her about the shooting sports program.

Now he was gone and she has no one to share the experience with. There's no one to take her turkey hunting or build a tent with and drink her weight in chocolate milk, sharing stories around a lamp and celebrating her making a clean shot.

It's only her and Uncle John. She doesn't talk about hunting or much of anything with him. She mostly just tries to stay out of his way.

When she walks in the building the receptionist guides her into the waiting room to sit with about a dozen other kids all ranging from her age to eighteen. She recognizes a few of them from signing up, they're all talking excitingly amongst each other about hunting and guns and tournaments. 

A sudden shyness spreads through her, making her feel out of place with all of the unfamiliar faces filling the room and getting dropped off by their parents.

Casey goes to sit next to one of the quiet teenagers sitting in the corner. He looks about as awkward as she's feeling. He couldn’t be older than fourteen or fifteen - fidgeting nervously with the backpack on his lap. His loose brown strands of hair dangling over his downcast eyes. He had what her dad would have called the 'city look' about him, looking over prepared with his bulging backpack and overwhelmed with all the noise as he shrivels up in his seat.

He looks sad- no, worse than sad. Casey thinks he looks completely miserable. The sticker on his chest slapped crookedly says his name is Kevin. Casey gives him two days before the range never sees him again.

One of the other instructors - David, his name tag supplies - a bald man with a kind smile comes in to retrieve them a few minutes later.

 

* * *

 

They head into one of the rooms down the hall with rows of tables, revolvers laid out on the table. Casey is pushed forward in the excitement as some of the other kids try to push ahead.

"Don't get too excited just yet," David warns. "Everyone take your seats in front of your names and do not pick up your weapons just yet."

Casey slides into one of the closer seats up front, pleased to see the quiet boy slide in the seat next to her because she takes these lessons seriously. She surveys the room: there's safety posters plastered on the walls, a longer table where two more instructors sit with several different guns at their table, and a television on a portable stand.

David walks to the front of the room and leans against the instructor's table, crossing his arms. "My name is David Dunn and I will be your main instructor for today," his voice, commanding and serious along with his sharp eyes quickly silences the room. "This won't be like an ordinary classroom. We are dealing with weapons here, not textbooks..."

It's more or less the same speech Casey had gotten from her dad when she'd seen his shotgun for the first time. Casey finds herself liking this class already, wriggling in her chair and leaning forward in the desk.

They go over the basic rules of firearm safety, all of which she's heard from her dad whenever she'd helped assemble, clean, and disassemble his guns at home. Some of the kids like herself already know these things and have no problem answering questions, while others are completely oblivious so. Casey listens anyway, hearing her dad's voice in her head on how drilling these rules in you is super important.

"What's the first step before you disassemble your weapon before cleaning?" David asks while pointing to Casey. " _Again, these_  will be one of many on the safety test after."

Feeling her face heating as all eyes land on her, Casey takes a deep breath. "Make sure there's no ammo in the magazine _or_ in the chamber," Casey says, with zero stuttering, to her relief. "And always double, _triple_ check."

"Excellent, Casey!" He says, eyes lighting up with surprise. "Can you repeat that, class?" David demands, their clumsy chorus reciting the words back before he goes over it again himself.

Of course, their guns aren't loaded. There's no magazine and the chamber has already been pulled back. 

David and the other instructors go down the row of tables as he begins speaking again. "And after checking to see that your weapons are indeed empty, you can go ahead and dry fire with the barrel pointed _down and away_ from yourself and everything around you," he says, reminding them of one of the main rules.

"That's right, pull the trigger. For the _Ruger_ , dry firing is completely fine and does not damage this weapon."

Casey does as told while Kevin slumps in his seat with an barely audible sigh, eyes glazed over and half lidded as he tilts the pistol in his palms.

"Now, I need everyone to set your guns back down for a moment," David says. "Pick up the paperclip that's on top of your test paper."

Casey and the kid beside her (Joseph) go through the next steps smoothly.

Meanwhile, Kevin fumbles awkwardly with trying to slide the bolt out, mouth thinning and hands shaking with increasing frustration. Huffing loudly, he sets the gun down and harder than necessary and buries his hands over his face.

Casey looks around for help but the other instructors seem busy and the boy looks like he's going to explode as his face reddens underneath his palms.

Rolling her eyes, she picks up his gun. She shouldn't because it's not _hers_ , but all the adults are busy.

"Hey," she says, patting his arm until he looks down at her. "Your strut is stuck on the pin, that's why it's not coming out."

Kevin frowns and shifts closer as her tiny hands point out the problem. "Oh," he says brokenly, brow knits in confusion.

"You have to point it a certain way," Casey instructs angling the gun and then pulling the trigger, the hammer coming down smoothly. "There! Now take the bolt out."

Taking hold of the bolt, Kevin slides it out and for the first time since Casey has walked in he doesn't look as miserable as she'd felt earlier.

"Thanks," he mutters, glancing briefly at her. "You're really good at this."

"Lots and lots of practice," she explains dismissively. "You really don't like doing this, do you?" She guesses, propping a fist under her chin.

He shrugs, looking down at the pieces of his Ruger. "I don't know anything about this stuff."

"Don't worry. It's _never_ easy when you do this at first," Casey says with a heavy sigh, remembering her failings. "You'll get the hang of it. And if you don't like it now you will soon."

Kevin frowns. "How do you know?"

"Well, who doesn't like shooting at stuff?"

Kevin blinks. Pushing his hair back from his face, he looks completely unconvinced as his gaze flicks to her name tag. "Thanks."

Pride blooms in her chest and she grins wide at him. She thinks if her dad were here he'd be proud of her too. "You're welcome."

They stare at each other for a long moment before the instructors come around to ask if they need help catching up. They don't.

Kevin watches her throughout the rest of the lesson.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday can't come fast enough and when it does Casey can barely contain her excitement.

She smiles to herself as she heads up to the range's entrance. Three much older girls from the class wave to her as they chat with the boys.

Her steps slow as she spots Kevin get out of a cream colored beetle. A woman with dark blonde hair who must be his mother climbs out. She immediately begins fussing over him, fixing the collar on his blue jean jacket and smoothing down his windblown bangs.

A few of their classmates stall on their way inside to stare as she loudly berates his appearance from top to bottom. Kevin doesn't say anything, features sullen and flustered as he glances over his shoulder to the group of snickering teenagers.

"Don't _slouch_ ," his mother snaps, mouth twisting in disgust as she grips him by the shoulders, forcing him to stand up straighter. "Jesus- and wear those glasses you made me pay for, _Kevin_." 

"Yes mom- _ma'am,"_ he corrects when she fixes him with a stern look.

Casey thinks this loud, overbearing woman can't be the mother of such a quiet teenage boy. They don't fit. Like her and her uncle. She shudders at that thought.

The short, pointed blare of a horn startles Casey from her transfixed gaze on the two. It's John. He's still parked on the sidewalk, watching her, so she heads inside.

"Hiya, Casey," David greets when she enters the room. "How's my star pupil doin'?"

"Already picking favorites, Dunn?" Mr. Carter, their other less friendly instructor says before taking a seat behind the gun display table.

David shrugs. "Well, I know this is only the second class but it seems like the kid knows her way around a pistol." He says this while dramatically turning to Joseph who swiftly turns away.

"Agreed," Mr. Carter grunts.

Blushing at their praise, Casey ducks her head and hurries over to her table while Mr. Carter chuckles. Her shyness doesn't last long when David mentions Kevin.

"I want you to talk to 'em, get the kid to open up a bit," David tells Joseph, the boy who sits opposite side of her. 

Joseph smiles. "Okay."

"Alright, thanks, son."

Shock hits her square in the chest at this revelation, and jealousy ignites in her tiny frame. She would do anything to have that again. 

Joseph takes his seat opposite side of Casey and shoots her a small smile. 

Kevin comes in shortly after. She notices he isn't wearing his glasses.

Today, they were learning how to put together the pistols they'd dismantled after going through an overview of what they learned last week. She remembers spending evenings with her dad cleaning his rifle after hunts, they'd share stories and eat pizza.

"When are we gonna shoot stuff?" Carl, a boy who sits behind her, loudly complains.

"When I can be certain that any of you won't shoot at anything  _living_ ," David answers.

Until then, the basic gun safety rules are drilled into their young minds by rote, acronym, song - any method which works.

Having since put together her pistol and with nothing better to do, Casey looks over to see how much progress Kevin has made. It was very little. Better than before, at least.

"Hey, Casey?" He says the moment he has her attention. "Do you know where this piece goes?" He asks her in a quiet tone, clearly out of his league when it comes to this sort of stuff.

She wonders why he doesn't just raise his hand and ask one of the instructors, or wait for them to come around. Yet she shows him using her own gun, not finding herself annoyed whenever he'd interrupted her like she thought she'd be.

"Thanks. I don't know how you catch on to everything so fast," he mutters sheepishly. 

"My daddy taught me how to do all of this," she says, chest puffing up in pride. 

"Oh. You must have a very cool dad." Kevin smiles faintly, brows pulling together in thought. "My dad said he was going to teach me when I got older, but..." he trails off, shrugging one shoulder and sets his pistol back on the table.

"Why didn't he?" Casey asks.

"My dad is forcing me," Joseph says, startling them both.

Casey frowns because Mr. Dunn doesn't seem the type to force anyone to do anything. "Why?"

Joseph leans close and gestures for them to do the same, and says in a low voice, "I kind of..." he sucks in a gust of air through clenched teeth, " _accidentally_ loaded my dad's gun and fired it in the house."

" _Kind of_?" Casey shrieks causing him to jerk back. "That doesn't sound like an accident to me," she drawls, lips pursing in disbelief.

Joseph winces. "Okay. Fine. _Intentionally_ \- anyway." He rolls his eyes, freckled nose scrunching up. "My dad decided I needed safety lessons so here we are." 

"You should never load a gun unless you plan on shooting it," Casey tells him with a weary shake of her head, getting a low, short chuckle from Kevin. "That wasn't a smart move."

Joseph sinks down in his chair, face reddening as he groans. "I expected this lecture from my dad, not a little kid," he laughs. "By the way, how old are you?" He asks, not unkindly.

"Six," she says a little defensively anyway, chin tilting up. "You?" She glances at both boys, noticing how quiet Kevin was being.

Kevin blinks. His eyes roll up to the ceiling. "Uh. . .Four- no, fifteen _,"_ he quickly corrects. "Yeah. Fifteen," he repeats with more confidence before explaining, "had a birthday a while ago."

Joseph grins. "Cool. I'm the same age."

Unknowing to the three kids, David hears the last bit of their conversation. "And neither of you are going to make it to the next age except Casey at the rate you two slow pokes are goin'," he jokes dryly. "Can you finish putting together your pistols so we can move along?' He arches a brow at his son.

"Sir, yes sir," Joseph barks with a salute.

 

* * *

 

"Who was that boy you were talking to?" John asks brusquely when she gets in the truck, glancing between the range and her.

Casey looks back at Kevin who was standing by the front door with all of the other kids waiting for their rides. She hadn't really said no more than goodbye to him once she saw John's truck pulling up.

"Saw you looking at him earlier too," John continues. "He's a friend of yours?"

Casey shrugs, feigning ignorance. John always interrogates her after he sees her talking with anyone. Asking what she'd talked about. What the person had asked her. Or sometimes he'd just stare at her, as if she'd done something unforgivable for giving other people her attention.

"He's just in my class," she responds airily, shrugging nonchalantly. In truth, she was excited to talk to him again - Joseph too - as much as she anticipates the next class. No one treats her like a baby in there, they talk to her like any other person. She especially likes Kevin who doesn't smell like all the other boys or look at her like a pest who'd wandered into the wrong room.

With the exception of her dad, she's never had a friend to do stuff with before. And Casey can't remember talking that much in months, or having such fun.

John grunts, dissatisfied with her answer. He doesn't leave just yet, watching Kevin walk over to his mom's car.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, when Casey is in bed, she rolls herself in her blanket over and over and over; like a hunk of meat in a burrito, or a turtle retreating in its shell. Overheated and stiff as it makes her, she feels safe trapped inside. Nothing can get to her, even more so as she cuddles her Clifford plush dog who watches the door for her while she tries to sleep.

It's not that she's afraid of the dark, which she feels safest in. It's perfect for when she wants to disappear, and she can be quiet for hours, curled up in tight spaces around the house. The last time she'd done so had gotten her in trouble because it was at school.

A small part of her that still believes in fairies and magic and secret worlds thought she could get away with it. When John had taken her home later that day she thought he would hurt her. But so far he's been hush about the incident.

His silence doesn't bring her much comfort.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Casey's eyes instinctively snap open.

Something was wrong.

Her breathing is loud and labored under the blanket, hot air fanning her sweaty face as she stares wide-eyed at John's silhouette in the open doorway.

Curling in on herself, she grips the layers of her blanket that enclose her inside tighter. Her eyes burn, a result from sleepless, terror filled nights.

Silence stretches on for a long moment as he stands in the doorway and she doesn't move, as if the tiniest break from stillness will stir the monster into reaction. She's getting better at reading him, although it doesn't work all the time.

"Goodnight, Casey-Bear," John whispers.

Casey doesn't reply for half a minute. Petrified. She feels weak, her body numb and buzzing.

"Can you shut the door?" She asks finally, muffled behind her stuffed animal.

John reaches for the doorknob, sighing heavily. "Are you gonna just keep ignoring everything I say to you?" He demands, his tone soft. "You know how I feel when you ignore me, Casey."

Casey goes rigid at the faint agitation in those last accusing words. Relenting her dismissive behavior, she lies, "m'not ignoring you, Uncle John."

"Okay, then." He leans against the door, cocking his head in wait. "I love you, Casey-Bear," he tries again, stressing the words in a slow manner. Expectant.

No way around it, Casey takes a deep breath. "Love you too," she mumbles, blinking back hurt, angry tears. 

"Get some sleep."

Satisfied, John shuts the door and she's blanketed back in darkness. Sniffling, she listens as his boots thud on the hardwood floor, not silent as they were minutes before.

Casey hates him. With all of her being. More than the coyotes that got into the chicken coop at her daddy's farm, leaving a bloody, feathered mess behind for her to witness the morning after. More than mortality, and weak hearts.

He always attempts to make her feel guilty, tearing her down with words and looks. But she isn't fooled. She knows what her uncle is, under the guise of smiles and gifts and promises. She just has to keep watching her back, no one else will do it for her. She's all alone in the world now. She won't be a chicken.

Any happiness she feels from the day dissipates, leaving her feeling hollow and far away. She hugs Clifford tighter, gaze still locked on her bedroom door.

Sleep doesn't come peacefully that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Casey has an accident in class.

It isn't necessarily her first but she's never peed herself during gun range lessons.

She's just so _tired_.

They're watching a video on shooting range safety, rules she knows as well as her addition and subtraction charts. The lights are off and the video's instructor is about as appealing to Casey as math, so she drifts off, her head slumping onto her crossed arms. Succumbing into a black, dreamless sleep, she doesn't feel her bladder releasing.

When the light snaps on and paints the inside of her eyelids a scorching red Casey jolts up, the world spinning before her as her mind catches up with her body.

That's when she notices her lower region– sticky, cold, and wet.

Dread deadens her limbs. Her mind quietening in the suddenly too loud room. Everyone is talking and laughing. Casey hopes it isn't about her.

Slowly, she looks down. Heart dropping.

Casey's so embarrassed. She wants to **die**.

Discreetly as possible, she pulls off her camo jacket to cover the dark, wet spot seeping through her blue jeans and down her pant legs.  

Except Joseph and Kevin happen to notice the trembling little girl sat between them moving stiffly. Their small noises of surprise a dead giveaway. 

"Casey..." Joseph tries to meet her eyes, concerned.

A rolling wave of fear shivers through her body. She clenches the jacket tighter. 

She's waiting for his shout of disgust– and Kevin's. Casey feels so low. Lower than dirt. She attempts to swallow the lump in her throat, like a seed it grows larger.

"All right..." David claps his hands loudly, she flinches. "Now that we know the rules of the range how about we take a sneak peek of where we'll be next week?"

Everyone scrambles up, chairs scraping. 

"Can we shoot something today?" Hunter asks. "Just once?"

"Yeah," Carl echoes beside him.

Mr. Carter gives them a long suffering look, lips pursing. "There's nothin' worse than a trigger happy fool, so what do you think the answer is?"

The boys scowl.

As the kids practically shove each other out of the way to leave David turns to the only three kids still sitting silently up front.

"What's going on?" David asks the Joseph.

"Um..." Joseph squirms in his seat, leaning forward he mouths the words, pointing down at Casey's lap.

Casey immediately hangs her head when she sees David's alarmed face. "Sorry," Casey whispers, sniffing. Now everyone will know how disgusting she is.

David gestures for the two boys to get up. "You two catch up with the others, I got it from here."

Joseph and Kevin don't need to be told twice.

"Hey," David comes round and sits in Kevin's chair, leaning forward to be eye level with her. "Don't be hard on yourself kid. You're not the first or last this has happened to."

Casey cries harder.

"It's all right," David assures, patting her clenched hand. "It will all be okay."

David stands, disappearing for a few seconds and coming back with one of the clean green rags they use to clean the guns. Casey gratefully takes it, holding the rag over her face like a veil as she calms. The cover of darkness makes her feel better, safe.

"How about we get you cleaned up?" David suggests as he kneels down again.

Casey wipes her face, heart pounding at his words. But David is not John. "Okay.."

David lifts her up and down onto her feet. Casey ties the jacket around her waist, hoping he's not looking at her mess.

"C'mon. We'll be quick about it while everyone is busy."

That sounds like a really good plan to Casey. She follows close behind him as he leads her to the front. There's a pretty brunette at the computer with tired blue eyes.

"Hey, Jean, can you spare a trash bag?" David asks.

Jean grabs one from under the desk and hands it to him, noticing Casey behind him she frowns at the devastated looking child. "Oh no...what's wrong, hon?"

"She had a li'l accident," David explains. Like it's no big deal. Casey wonders how he does that. Grown ups only have two reactions: explode or ignore. "Casey, this is Norma Jean, she kinda owns the place."

"It's okay. I've had grown men come in here and piss themselves when firing a piece too big for them to handle," Norma says, winking. 

"I'll call your uncle." David says, reaching over the desk to grab the phone.

Casey's eyes widen, panic overwhelming her. She wants to stay **here**! She wants to change here! Not at home with John. She watches with trepidation as David looks up her number on the sign-in sheet, words stuck in her throat. 

"I'm sure he won't be mad." Norma soothingly tells her.

Casey shakes her head, breathing hard. "I don't want to go," she pleads.

Norma and David exchange glances.

"Are you sure?" Jean asks, brows knitting.

"Yes," Casey answers in a rush.

"The class _will_ be over soon." Jean shrugs at David and turns back to Casey. "Looks like you'll get your hunting gear early."

"Think you can take over here?" David asks Jean. "I trust Mr. Carter alone with guns just about as much as those kids right now."

Jean laughs. "Sure."

David ruffles Casey's hair. "I'll see you back in there in a few."

"You want me to go in there with you, hon?"

Casey shakes her head, her grip on the door tightening. 

"Okay. Make sure you clean yourself up right and change. I'll be right out here if you need me."

She makes sure it's locked.

Casey toes off her boots and socks which thankfully have been spared from her accident. She gathers a bunch of paper towels to wet in the sink before hurrying out of her jeans and underwear, chucking them in the plastic bag. She gets some soap.

She feels so betrayed and violated by her own body. Scrubbing at her sticky skin with the cold, rough towels harder than necessary. She constantly checks the door to make sure the lock is still turned sideways.

Casey pulls on the pants. Perfect fit. She tugs off her shirt next, the bottom hem of it was damp.

Her reflection stares back at her, blurred underneath the droplets of water, she wishes to be somewhere else. Anywhere.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the class goes by smoothly. Casey slips in with barely a look sent her way.

She keeps her distance from Kevin and Joseph and they do the same. She pushes incident down to be dealt with later. Out of sight, out of mind. Casey's really good at that; she's good at a lot of things she shouldn't be.

After class when she's sitting in the hall waiting to be picked up, Joseph cautiously approaches her

"Are you okay, Casey?" He asks.

Ashamed, she refuses to look him in the eyes. She shakes her head.

She doesn't want to be here anymore. She wants to disappear. She wants to be with her daddy.

"I don't think anyone saw anything. Except me and Kevin, and we won't tell. And my dad just said you some gun oil got spilled on you."

Casey spares Joseph a quick glance to gauge his sincerity, surprised by the genuine kindness she finds on his face. He sounds like he means it. No one ever says anything to her and mean it. His smiles widens.

Casey looks back down at her twisting hands, unsure how to pay back his silence. "Okay." 

A granola bar slides into her view. It's chocolate chip. "I'm not going to eat it," he says. "You can have it."

Casey takes it, the tight knot in her chest loosens just a little. Warmth floods through her. "Thank you," she mumbles.

"Hope you feel better. It wasn't the same without you in our group today."

Group? Frowning, Casey realizes he's talking about their table. She's never been a part of something before. Even with the kids at school who have given up on talking to her. Before she can ask him he's already leaving with his dad. David wraps an arm around his shoulder.

Jealousy and longing eats away at her. Casey stuffs her face with a third of granola instead where it sits in her stomach unpleasantly.

She gathers the course to look up, seeing whose still here. Norma is still behind the desk, grumbling about paperwork and Mr. Carter is talking fishing with a few kids. 

Her eyes land on Kevin sitting a few seats down from her, a giant book propped up on his lap in one hand, the other holding up his glasses as he squints through them. He gives up, tucking them in his yellow polo with a roll of his eyes. His gaze stops on her. 

Casey takes the opportunity to go and sit next to him.

"How are you holding up?" He asks, sounding much older than he is.

Casey sighs brokenly. "Not good..."

"Joseph was right, nobody else saw," he tells her, eyes still focusing on his book. "You shouldn't...be embarrassed about things you can't control."

Casey frowns at that. "Then what else would you get embarrassed about?"

"Exactly," he answers, flipping a page.

With nothing to say to that, Casey turns to his book. There were a lot of words so she focuses on the pictures, a lot of them were kids, but they didn't look like any she's ever seen before. They were the oddest thing Casey's probably ever seen.

Intrigued, she leans over into his space to get a better look. "What are you reading?"

Kevin settles the book down on his lap. “It’s a book about wild childs,” he explains, hesitant. “Kids found after years of being raised by wild animals after getting lost or abandoned in forests and deserts and stuff.”

"Raised by _animals_?" She looks up at him skeptically. “You mean in real life? That can't happen."

"It’s completely true,” Kevin defends, he grins excitedly, blue eyes glowing. “Here, see…” he half splays the book on her lap so it’s divided between them and flips to the next page, an angry, filthy looking boy with wild hair stares back at them. “This kid was raised by wolves. They have interviews and pictures after they join society as proof.”

“There was a husband and wife on the news whose body was found in the woods, like, last week?” Casey says. “They both got mauled by a mountain lion.”

Kevin is watching her intently, gaze moving over her face thoughtfully. “I remember that." He shakes his head. “But that's completely different,” he protests with a dismissive wave.

“Oh, yeah?” She crosses her arms, eyes narrowing, a mixture of challenging and curious. “How?”

Settling back in his chair, Kevin looks down at the pages for several moments in contemplative silence. “Well…” he begins slowly, fingers tapping rhythmically on the page. “Animals are super smart and have heightened senses that humans don’t, right?”

“Mm-hm.”

“For example, a dog can be really nice to one person and be totally hostile to another. Because they have this sense about them much stronger than their owner. They can read people better and tell if that person has a secret agenda or whatever towards their pack.”

Casey hums again in agreement again, remembering the little stray dog her and her daddy rescued last year. How it had barked and growled at her uncle until he’d left.

“Some dog breeds are trained just for that– to be really protective. Like German Shepherds at police academies,” he says, words becoming more rushed with glee. “So, maybe those animals read something special in the wild childs. That they can be trusted and strong enough to survive with them in the woods, right?”

“That makes sense,” Casey says, nodding as she catches on. Getting into the idea more and more. “And maybe because the kids are little and alone so that helps. They’re not a threat?”

“Exactly! There's no point in harming  something vulnerable to the animal, so paternal instincts just kick in."

“That’s so cool,” she says dreamily, looking down at the wild eyed boy. “I wish I was raised by deers because they’re the best,” she gushes, placing her hand on her chest. “And they’re really smart– the girls are, anyway."

“You’ll fit right in with their brown and white fur,” he agrees, making her smile.

“What about you? What animal would you want to live with?”

“Interesting question.” Kevin flips through the book while Casey leans in to catch the strange photos inside. “Elephants, maybe?” He shrugs. “Because they’re big and strong, and never forget.”

"Deers can hide really good," Casey points out. "And they're really good at knowing when other people are hiding."

Kevin stares at her for a long time. "Yeah. I can see the appeal there. Maybe an elephant-deer hybrid is the next step in evolution."

Casey scrunches up her nose. "I know for _sure_ that can't happen."

Kevin smiles knowingly, holding up the book in lieu of answering.

"Yo, Bread Crumb!" Hunter calls out by the entrance door. "Your mom is yelling for you!"

"Watch it, Hunter," Jean reprimands with a sharp eye.

Hunter throws her a smarmy grin, Carl snickering behind him. "Sorry, ma'am."

Popping the granola in his mouth, Kevin chews fast and stands, dusting off the remaining grains from his hands.

Casey returns her attention back to the book. “Why’s that person arms and legs shaped like that?”

“He was raised by monkeys, so he did what they do. Climb trees and swing on vines and break coconuts." Kevin talks quickly as he stuffs the book in his bag, growling under his breath as he tugs the zipper over the corner crookedly sitting out. "He watched them so his body just sorta morphed into what he knew about walking and standing growing up, which happened to be like the monkeys he lived with instead of humans.”

Casey hangs onto his every word even though she doesn't show it, fiddling with her shirt. She's entranced by all the strange, awesome things Kevin seems to know about animals and wild childs.

"Bye, Casey."

"Bye, Kevin. See you next week?"

"Yeah." He waves sheepishly.

"Dude..." Hunter scoffs amusedly. "Get friends your own age maybe? There's plenty around."

Kevin doesn't respond, keeps his head low as he rushes outside, curving around Casey's uncle as he comes in.

"You're John, right?" Norma says, coming up behind her. "Casey's uncle."

"I am." He looks between the two. "What's the matter? Casey, where are your clothes?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Norma says.

Casey ducks and heads for the truck, heart beating faster than her hurried steps, not wanting to hear about her accident. He'll want her to take a bath soon as they get home. She climbs in and slams the door, squeezing her eyes shut. She breathes out unevenly, chest aching at what's to come.

Mr. Dunn was so nice to her. She wishes her uncle John was more like him. Normal. She wants that so much it hurts. She doesn't understand why he keeps hurting her. Maybe she can live with Me. Dunn or even Norma Jean? They seem to like her enough.

It's a nice fantasy that only makes her more miserable. She should grow up already. maybe then John would leave her alone. 

A blob of hot pink in her peripheral pulls Casey from her thoughts. She looks out the window to see Kevin's mom waiting at the sidewalk, pink coat flapping in the wind, she combs her matching fingernails through blonde locks while she eyes John coming out the range.

He doesn't look too happy – he looks worried for a reason Casey can't figure out. He looks up, features twitching to one of surprise as Ms. Crumb closes the few steps, extending a hand for him to take. She turns around, pointing to Casey. 

Casey slides down the seat, sneaking glances as the two adults go back to talking. She watches the whole thing. The way Kevin's mom looks at her uncle, swaying nearer to him the longer they talk, licking her lips. Like she wants sexual favors.

Ms. Crumb throws her head back and laughs, placing a hand on John's bicep.

Something old and vaguely familiar cracks open inside Casey at the exchange, leaving her light and breathless. Ms. Crumb seems to _really_ like talking with John, she even stood there waiting for him to come out. If only Casey can see Kevin's face would she be able to get a better read on what's happening. 

When John finally gets in the truck minutes later, still smiling, and drives away he finally acknowledges his niece. "Had another accident, huh. I would've picked you up earlier if I'd known, Casey Bear."

"I didn't want to leave class."

He sighs, looking her up and down. "You should've let me know. We don't want anyone thinking you don't want to come home again, _do we_?"

"No, sir," Casey murmurs. For the second time that day she feels her mind sinking in, like going underwater, where it's dark and safe.

"You cleaned yourself up?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm sure it was a half done job. We'll get you in the bath when we get home." He pats her knee, his hand lingering. 

So unlike Mr. Dunn, or Mr. Carter.

"You're making friends I hear."

Casey nods, the movement slow and sluggish. She's drowning and pretty soon her body will be too frozen and numb to feel anything.

"I don't know how I feel about you talking to older boys so young." John grins. "But your friend's mom...she seems nice. Seems she'll keep me out of trouble." He chuckles. 

It's obviously meant to be a joke. Casey doesn't get it, or laugh. 

 

* * *

 

That night, Casey curls up in her bed and passes out, dried tears on her face. She dreams of her and her new friends, running free through the forest with wild animals.


	4. Chapter 4

John enters the range two weeks after his first meeting with Kevin's mother, the woman close at his heels. Huge smiles on their faces that confirms Casey's suspicions these past few days.

"Who wants ice cream?" John declares, looking between the two kids.

Casey is ecstatic, Kevin less so as he appears to take in this turn of events. 

It's the best surprise she's gotten in a long time and she skips down the pavement behind John and Penelope, unable to contain her excitement. John doesn't have too many friends over and they don't always bring their kids.

"What kind of ice cream are you getting? I'm gonna get gummy worms and chocolate chips on mine. _And_ ," she adds nearly out of breath, "I'm going to get _three_ scoops and eat it so fast."  Casey babbles excitedly to Kevin whose slow pace forces her to match him. "Maybe I can ride with you and your mom?" She asks hopefully.

"Maybe next time." He smiles apologetically. "My mom is kind of...you have mud on your shoes. She'll freak on you." He looks out at the field, lost in thought for a moment, brows pinched. "Sorry."

"Oh. It's okay." Casey shrugs. 

Kevin turns back to her and flips her jacket hood up over her mass of curls. Casey tugs the cord on his hoodie down so it bunches up unevenly on one side. 

As she's pulling the hood back down, Kevin chuckles, ruffling her hair affectionately. "And we'll see who eats the most ice cream. I'm going to get _four_ scoops," he says.

Casey can hardly wait. It was officially the best Saturday ever, the only way it could've been better was if Joseph and his dad came.

Except when they arrive all of her car ride fantasies are cut short.

She can tell something is wrong when Kevin gets out of his mom's beetle. The first thing she notices are the glasses he's wearing, he usually keeps them tucked in his backpack because they hurt his eyes. His back is ramrod straight and his movements rigid as they meet John and Casey at the entrance. He barely looks at her.

 

* * *

 

Kevin is silent most of the time, only speaking when spoken to. He appears more interested in staring at the adults enjoying themselves, rather than talking to Casey or devouring his ice cream. It's a different atmosphere in comparison to the subdued manner he's normally in during their lessons, or the type of quiet she's used to while they're waiting to be picked up.

He was perfectly normal ten minutes ago. Was it something his mom said? Or has she done something wrong?

Casey frowns down at her melting strawberry and chocolate ice cream. She's eaten _too_ fast and has lost her appetite which is a shame. John doesn't give her treats often, he says no one thinks overweight kids are cute.

She's more interested in Kevin telling her about wild childs and animals anyway, but his sour mood tells her that's not a good idea right now. Sighing, she looks out the window and watches the birds pick at the half eaten gummy worms and wafer crumbs in the lot.

"You've got ice cream on your cheek," Kevin says, making her turn back around.

Casey sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes.

Kevin blinks slowly, unamused. He reaches over to snatch a few napkins out the dispenser and begins wiping at her face. 

" _Ugh_ ," she cries out, sputtering as her taste buds go from sugary sweet to bland and dry. "Ew." She spits bits of napkins into her cup and glares, dodging his next attempt to dab at her cheek.

"Hold still," he mutters while she squirms away. "You don't want it to dry up," he hisses. "You don't want to get yelled at for making a big mess."

Casey dashes under his spread arms and crawls over his lap to escape from the booth. If that's all he was planning on saying to her then she doesn't want to stick around. She makes a show of wiping her face with a napkin and throws it on the table.

Kevin flinches as the wadded tissue lands on the center of the table. Sighing, his gaze shoots back up when his mom cackles. Casey stomps over to them.

They're leaning against the countertop, in the middle of a boring conversation about their cooking skills. They look so happy together, Casey is reluctant to interrupt them.

Patting him on his arm to gain his attention, she asks, "Uncle John, can I have a dollar?" 

John smiles down at her and digs into his wallet. "Anything for you, sugar monster."

"She's so adorable," Penelope gushes, smiling down at Casey. "I've always wanted a little girl of my own."

Casey scampers away to the crane machines before they can lavish her with any more attention. Having been eyeing the bear since they've walked in. She doesn't need anyone, she is determined to have a nice afternoon all by herself.

She's in the middle of nudging a frog out of the way to get closer to her prize when Kevin appears in her peripheral. 

"What?" Casey mumbles, focusing on the delicate operation of crane swinging.

"Back it up a bit," he points to the crane and she carefully tracks his finger. "Too far. Up. Up– there! Little more to the left," he instructs. 

Jerking the joystick to the left, the frog goes tumbling down the small hill of stuffed animals.

"Thanks," she says, in a slightly better mood.

"Is your uncle nice?" He says out of the blue.

Casey narrows her eyes and stands on her tip-toes, barely tapping the joystick as she tries to aim it in _just_ the right spot. "...why"

"Take a look." 

"Can't. I'm busy." Casey checks the countdown. Nine seconds. "They look happy."

"You have to be careful."

Casey scowls down the clock. Seven seconds. "Yeah. I am."

Kevin makes a noise of frustration. "No. Be careful around _her_." His eyes shift to Penelope.

"Your mom?" Casey frowns, stepping away from the machine with her hands raised. She had it set perfectly. Dropping her hands with a small sigh, she glances at Kevin's face, his features tight and uncomfortable. "I bet she's nicer than my uncle."

"Why do you say that?"

Looking down at her boots, she twists nervously. "Because..." She doesn't elaborate. Bad things have happened before whenever she tries. John hurts her. Her dad gets a heart attack. Nothing good ever comes from trying to reveal her and John's secret.

Kevin looks back up at the machine, his face glowing red and yellow as the music plays louder. "You lost."

"What?" Casey whips her head up to find her bear mere inches away from the drop off box. " _Ah, shoot_..." She kicks the machine dejectedly.

"You two ready to go?" John asks, startling them both.

Pouting, she really doesn't, especially when Kevin was finally talking to her. But John is already throwing on his jacket and Penelope is strapping on her purse. 

Penelope and John hug goodbye. Casey waits for a kiss. It doesn't happen. A little disappointed, Casey trudges out of the store before any of them can notice and say anything.

She's leaning against the truck watching two birds caw and hop around each other. She claps her hands and they fly away.

"What's the matter?" John says as he comes up to the truck. 

"Nothing," she mutters.

"Didn't mean to leave you on your own in there," he tells her in a low voice. "You'll have me for the rest of the day. We can watch some movies?"

Casey shrugs. Telling him she likes when he's gone would not go over too well.

Penelope comes over and envelops her in a hug. "Bye, Casey. It was so nice to meet you."

 _Don't go. Come with us._ "Bye."

Casey gets a foot on the truck's side step when she hears someone coming up behind her.

"Casey," Kevin calls out.

Turning around, she's met with a fluffy ball of reddish brown hurling at her. She clumsily catches it before it can hit the ground.

The soft, shimmery tufts of fur and silky red bow is the softest material she's ever felt. Its ears ears tickle her chin. She turns it over and it looks even more prettier than it did inside the machine.

Casey rushes over to give Kevin a tight brief hug, too shy to prolong it. "How did you get it!?" She grins toothily, staring up at him with wide eyes of wonder. She's never won anything in the crane machines. It was like guessing the right number of gumballs in the jar at school– nearly impossible.

Kevin rubs the back of his neck which is becoming a splotchy red. He tugs his hoodie tighter and crosses his arms. "No problem. Sorry I've been...off today. I'll make it up to you." He nods. "Promise."

Casey thinks he's already done a good job in getting back in her good graces, not that he was hanging on the ledge or anything. She hugs the bear lovingly to her chest.

She can hardly believe it! Kevin _does_ like her and wants to be friends. Maybe her  _best friend_.

She waves goodbye to Kevin, watching their beetle all their way out the lot.

 

* * *

 

_What do you make of this?_

_Is Kevin's mother dating now?_

_As if anyone is desperate enough to date that **bitch**._

A wolf in sheep's clothing, she disguises herself well enough.

_Maybe she needs to get laid...in a fucking coffin somewhere._

_Jade!_

_What!? It's true and you all know it. The little girl is adorable though._

Dennis sighs through his nose, irritated by the chaos that's been going on since Kevin was sprung with news of this surprise outing.  _I don't like this guy. His niece...Casey doesn't seem to all that much either._

He thinks back on the couple of short interactions he's had with Casey over the past few weeks. She's a cute kid. Smart. Thoughtful. Kevin seems to have taken a strong liking to her; he was always better around children and pets.

Penelope hasn't done a lot of dating since Kevin's father departed. She doesn't have a great track record in good guys and he can say the same for John.

Something was off. 

_I can feel it too. We must remain hopeful and vigilant that everything will turn out okay._

Casey's somber face and Patricia's words linger on his conscious the entire car ride home. He doesn't have all the facts right now and he hates that, but he tries to keep strong for the others.

Whatever happens Dennis will protect them.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try something really different with these characters than what I've written so far, while also using one of my favorite fic tropes- growing up together. Some of the subjects in this fic will be ugly but I'm not planning (so far) to get too detailed on these things.
> 
> I will be updating my other Split fic The Fire Escape soon, the new chapter I was working on had been destroyed so I have to re-write it but it is coming!


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